University  of  California  •  Berkeley 

From  the  library 

of 
JAMES  D.  HART 


POEMS 


ON 


MAN, 


IN  HIS  VARIOUS  ASPECTS  UNDER 


THE    AMERICAN    REPUBLIC. 


BY  CORNELIUS  MATHEWS, 

AUTHOK  OF    "THE  MOTLEY  BOOK,"   "BEHEMOTH," 
"PUFFER  HOPKINS,"  ETC.,  ETC. 


NEW-YORK. 

WILEY   AND    PUTNAM. 

MDCCCXLIII. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1843,  by  COR.VELIUS 
MATHEws,inthe  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  Southern  District 
of  New -York. 


Press  of  C.  R.  Lincoln, 
Flushing,  L.  I. 


SIMPLE  POEMS 
ARE     DEDICATED 

TO 
THE     HOPEFUL    FRIENDS    OF     HUMANITY, 

EY 

THEIR    SERVANT, 
THE  AUTHOR. 

New-York,  My,  1843. 


CONTENTS. 


I.  THE  CHILD 7 

II.  THE  FATHER IS 

IIL  THE  TEACHER 21 

IV.  THE  CITIZEN 27 

V.  THE  FARMER 31 

VI.  THE  MECHANIC , 37 

VII.  THE  MERCHANT 43 

VIII.  THE  SOLDIER 48 

IX.  THE  STATESMAN 53 

X.  THE  FRIEND 59 

XI.  THE  PAINTER 63 

XII.  THE  SCULPTOR « 69 

XIII.  THE  JOURNALIST 75 

XIV.  THE  MASSES 81 

XV.  THE  REFORMER 85 

XVI.  THE  POOR  MAN 91 

XVII.  THE  SCHOLAR 97 

XVIII.  THE  PREACHER 105 

XIX.  THE  POET 109 


I. 


THE  CHILD. 


l* 


THE    CHILD. 

CALM,  in  thy  cradle  lie,  thou  little  Child, 
Thy  white  limbs  smoothing  in  a  patient  sleep, 
Or,  gambolling  when  thou  wakest  at  the  peep 

Of  the  young  day — as  clear  and  undefiled 

As  thou !     Around  thy  fresh  and  lowly  bed 
Look  up  and  see,  how  reverent  men  are  gathered, 
In  wonder  at  a  babe  so  greatly  fathered 

Into  life,  and  so  by  influence  fed. 


$  THE    CHILD. 

They  watch  the  quiet  of  thy  deep  blue  eye — 
Where  all  the  outward  world  is  born  anew, 
Where  habit,  figure,  form,  complexion,  hue 

Rise  up  and  live  again  in  that  pure  sky  ; 

At  every  lifting  of  thine  arms,  they  feel 

The  ribbed  and  vasty  bulk  of  Empire  shake, 
And  from  the  fashion  of  thy  features  take 

The  hope  and  image  of  the  common-weal. 


See !  through  the  white  skin  beats  the  ruddy  tide  ! 
The  pulses  of  thine  heart,  that  come  and  go, 
Like  the  great  circles  of  the  ocean-flow, 

And  dash  a  continent  at  either  side. 

Thou  wield 'st  a  hopeful  Empire,  large  and  fair, 
With  sceptred  strength  :  about  thy  brow  is  set 
A  fresh  glad  crown,  with  dewy  morning  wet, 

And  noon-day  lingers  in  thy  flaxen  hair  ! 


THE     CHILD. 

Kingdom,  authority  and  power  to  thee 
Belong  ;  the  hand  that  frees,  the  chain  that  thralls — 
Each  attribute  on  various  man  that  falls, 

Strides  he  the  globe,  or  canvass-tents  the  sea  : 

The  sword,  the  staff,  the  judge's  cap  of  death, 
The  ruler's  robe,  the  treasurer's  key  of  gold, 
All  growths  the  world-wide  scope  of  life  may  hold, 

Are  formed  in  thee  and  people  in  thy  breath. 


Be  stirred  or  still,  as  prompts  thy  beating  heart ! 
Out  of  thy  slumbering  calmness  there  shall  climb, 
Spirits  serene  and  true  against  the  Time 

That  trumpets  men  to  an  heroic  part ; 

And  motion  shall  confirm  thee,  rough  or  mild 
For  the  full  sway  that  unto  thee  belongs, 
In  the  still  house  or  'mid  the  massy  throngs 

Of  life — thou  gentle  and  thou  sovereign  Child  ! 


8  THE     CHILD. 

They  watch  the  quiet  of  thy  deep  blue  eye — 
Where  all  the  outward  world  is  born  anew, 
Where  habit,  figure,  form,  complexion,  hue 

Rise  up  and  live  again  in  that  pure  sky  ; 

At  every  lifting  of  thine  arms,  they  feel 

The  ribbed  and  vasty  bulk  of  Empire  shake, 
And  from  the  fashion  of  thy  features  take 

The  hope  and  image  of  the  common-weal. 


See !  through  the  white  skin  beats  the  ruddy  tide  ! 
The  pulses  of  thine  heart,  that  come  and  go, 
Like  the  great  circles  of  the  ocean-flow, 

And  dash  a  continent  at  either  side. 

Thou  wield'st  a  hopeful  Empire,  large  and  fair, 
With  sceptred  strength  :  about  thy  brow  is  set 
A  fresh  glad  crown,  with  dewy  morning  wet, 

And  noon-day  lingers  in  thy  flaxen  hair  ! 


THE     CHILD. 


Kingdom,  authority  and  power  to  thee 
Belong  ;  the  hand  that  frees,  the  chain  that  thralls  — 
Each  attribute  on  various  man  that  falls, 

Strides  he  the  globe,  or  canvass-tents  the  sea  : 

The  sword,  the  staff,  the  judge's  cap  of  death, 
The  ruler's  robe,  the  treasurer's  key  of  gold, 
All  growths  the  world-wide  scope  of  life  may  hold, 

Are  formed  in  thee  and  people  in  thy  breath. 


\ 


Be  stirred  or  still,  as  prompts  thy  beating  heart ! 
Out  of  thy  slumbering  calmness  there  shall  climb, 
Spirits  serene  and  true  against  the  Time 

That  trumpets  men  to  an  heroic  part ; 

And  motion  shall  confirm  thee,  rough  or  mild 
For  the  full  sway  that  unto  thee  belongs, 
In  the  still  house  or  'mid  the  massy  throngs 

Of  life — thou  gentle  and  thou  sovereign  Child  ! 


II. 


THE  FATHER. 


II. 


THE  FATHER, 


-  THE  FATHER, 

See,  rather,  from  the  little  lids  looks  out 

A  soul  distinct  and  sphered,  its  own  true  star, 
Shining  and  axled  for  a  separate  way, 

Be  its  young  orbit's  courses  near  or  far. 
His  little  hands  uplifted  for  his  right 

To  have  an  individual  life  allowed — 
Implore  of  men,  of  men,  from  thee  the  first, 

The  freedom  by  his  birth-right  hour  bestowed. 


Check  not,  nor  hamper  with  an  idle  chain,. 

With  customs  harsh,  of  a  loose  leisure  grown. 
With  habitudes  of  craft,  of  health  or  pain 

The  youngling  life  that  asks  to  be  its  own  : 
His  early  friend,  his  helper  and  his  guide 

To  stay  his  hold  upon  the  rugged  way — 
Turn  not  that  life-branch  from  the  sun  or  shade  aside, 

But  in  heaven's  breezes,  rather,  let  it  go  astray. 


THE  FATHER.  17 

Be  thou  a  Heaven  of  truth  and  cheerful  hope, 

Clear  as  the  clear,  round  midnight  at  its  full ; 
And  he,  the  Earth  beneath  that  elder  cope — 

And  each  'gainst  each  for  highest  mastery  pull : 
The  child  and  father,  each  shall  fitly  be — 

Hope  in  the  evening  vanward  paling  down, 
The  one — the  other  younger  Hope  upspringing, 

With  the  glancing  morning  for  its  crown. 


There  is  no  tyranny  in  truest  love, 

Nor  rightful  mastery  in  triumphant  force ; 

And  gentleness  at  hearth  and  board  will  prove 
Felicity  is  born  of  their  divorce : 

Father  and  Child,  the  after  and  before, 
Latest  or  first,  whatever  matters  it  ? 

Of  mutual  hopes,  of  mutual  fears  and  loves,   ^ 

Rounded  and  firm,  their  strands  of  life  are  knit. 
2* 


III. 
THE   TEACHER. 


THE    TEACHER. 

WITH  reverent  steps  approach  the  soul  that  lies 

Before  thee,  rude,  unformed  and  full  of  life  ; 
A  chaos  shrouding  up  a  future  world — 

To  order  born — yet  with  itself  at  strife. 
Peer  for  a  while  within  the  dark  domain, 

And  see  how  temples  mighty  spring  to  sight, 
Arks,  palaces — all  dead  or  living  things 

Doomed  to  climb  up  into  the  Heaven's  light> 


22  THE    TEACHER. 

To  heap  the  Earth  or  sail  the  outward  Sea  ; 

The  giant  mass  of  things  to  come  at  large, 
Hovering  about  and  shaping  silently 

Within  that  baby  soul's  unquiet  marge.* 


In  beauty  shall  that  fresh-girt  spirit  build  ? 

Shall  harmony  through  all  its  chambers  sing — 
While  rising  day  by  day,  and  pile  on  pile, 

Its  topless  worlds  of  heaven-ward  wonders  spring  ? 
Say  thou — that  broodest  on  its  infant  breast ! 

Whose  eyes  cry  light  through  all  its  dawning  void— 
Or,  with  a  double  darkness  would  invest 

Young  thoughts,  on  labor  without  hope  employed. 
'T  is  there  the  truest  work  Earth  knows  is  done — 

Each  hour,  each  instant  buys  the  world  an  age 
With  glory  bright ;  knits  up  its  golden  peace, 

Or  rends  the  web  of  time  with  endless  rage. 


*  And  in  such  indexes  .... 

there  is  seen 

The  "baby  figure  of  the  giant  mass 
Of  things  to  come  at  large.     Troil.  and  Cressid. 


THE   TEACHER.  23 

Bend  to  the  Teacher,  bend,  oh  world,  thy  knees  ! 

l«i  &>**& 

And  pray  him,  blessed  God's  name,"=te:be  true ! 

Leist  he  forever  break  that  spirit's-prceious'peace, 

And  following  millions  in  its  fall  undo. 
A  consecrated  man — thou  man  of  thought — 

Keep  clear  thy  master -soul  in  every  act, 
\nd  be  thy  features  pure  as  early  light — 

Crossing  in  power  that  spirit's  undimmed  tract 
The  world's  dust  ever  shake  from  off  thy  feet, 

When  drawest  thou  to  that  white  temple  near, 
.Nor  vex  its  amber  cope  with  words  unmeet 

Of  hate,  or  anger  harsh,  or  unblest  fear. 


Listen  the  way  the  spirit  seeks  to  go — 

And  watch  its  sacred  steps,  or  firm  or  frail ; 

Haste  not  its  pace,  nor  hinder  it  the  path — 
Smiling  or  sad,  in  changeful  mirth  or  wail, 

Remember,  thou  art  standing  by  thy  God  ! 

Ere  Earth  has  soiled  his  beauty,  touched  his  strength  \ 

'T  is  there  th '  Almighty  makes  his  sweet  abode  ; 


24  TBS    TEACHER. 

And  there,  if  undisturbed,  would  Heaven  at  length 
Take  up  and  fix  its  everlasting  rest : 

Yea,  Heaven  with  these,  its  children,  fain  would  dwell, 
And,  far-withdrawn  within  their  stainless  breast, 

Deliver  thence,  at  times,  a  blessed  oracle 


IV. 


THE    CITIZEN. 


THE    CITIZEN. 

WITH  plainess  in  thy  daily  pathway  walk — 
And  disencumbered  of  excess  :  no  other 

Jostling,  servile  to  none,  none  overstalk, 

For,  right  and  left,  who  passes  is  thy  brother. 

Let  him  who  in  thy  countenance  looks, 
Find  there  in  meek  and  softened  majesty, 

Thy  Country  writ,  thy  Brother  and  thy  God  ; 
And  be  each  motion,  forthright,  calm  and  free. 


28  THE    CITIZEN.- 

Feel  well  with  the  poised  ballot  in  thy  hand, 

Thine  unmatched  sovreignty  of  right  and  wrong- 

*T  is  thine  to  bless,  or  blast  the  waiting  land, 
To  shorten  up  its  life-  or  make  it  long 

Who  looks  on  thee,  not  hopeless,  should  behold, 
A  self-delivered,  self-supported  Man  ; 

True  to  his  being's  mighty  purpose — true 
To  a  wisdom-blessed — a  god-given  plan. 


No  where  within  the  great  globe's  skyey  round — 
Cans't  thou  escape  thy  duty,  grand  and  high, 

A  man  unbadged,  unbonneted,  unbound — 
Walk  to  the  Tropic— to  the  Desert  fly. 


A  full-fraught  Hope  upon  thy  shoulder  leans, 

And  beats  with  thine,  the  heart  of  half  the  world  ; 

Ever  behind  thee  walks  the  shining  Past, 

Before  thee  burns  the  star-stripe,  high  unfurled. 


V. 
THE  FARMER. 


«3 


THE    FARMER. 

FULL  master  of  the  liberal  soil  he  treads, 
With  none  to  tithe,  to  crop,  to  third  his  beds 
Of  ripely-glowing  fruit  or  yellow  grain — 
He  knows  what  freedom  is  ;  undulled  of  pain 
Looks  on  the  sun  and  on  the  wheatfield  looks, 

Each  glad  and  golden  in  the  other's  view  ; 
Or,  on  the  meadow  listening  to  the  sky 

That  bids  its  grasses  thrive  with  starry  dew 


32  THE   FARMER. 

To  him  there  come  in  such  still  places, 

Undimmed,  majestical  and  fresh  as  life, 
The  elder  forms,  the  antique  mighty  faces 

Which  shone  in  council,  stood  aloft  in  strife — 
When  went  the  battle,  billowy,  past ; 

When  high  the  standard  to  the  sky  was  raised  ; 
When  rushed  the  horseman  with  the  rushing  blast, 

And  the  red  sword  through  shrouded  valleys  blazed. 


When  Cities  rising  shake  th'  Atlantic  shore — 

Thou  mighty  Inland,  calm  with  plenteous  peace, 
Oh  temper  and  assuage  the  wild  uproar, 

And  bring  the  sick,  vexed  masses  balmy  ease. 
On  their  red  vision  like  an  angel  gleam, 

And  angel-like  be  heard  amid  their  cries 
Till  they  are  stilled  as  is  the  summer's  stream^ 

Majestical  and  still  as  summer  skies* 


THE    FARMER,  33 

When  cloud-like  whirling  through  the  stormy  State 

Fierce  Revolutions  rush  in  wild-orbed  haste, 
On  the  still  highway  stay  their  darkling  course, 

And  soothe  with  gentle  airs  their  fiery  breast ; 
Slaking  the  anger  of  their  chariot-wheels 

In  the  cool  flowings  of  the  mountain  brook, 
While  from  the  cloud  the  heavenward  prophet  casts 

His  mantle's  peace,  and  shines  his  better  look. 


Better  to  watch  the  live-long  day 

The  clouds  that  come  and  go 
Wearying  the  heaven  they  idle  through, 
And  fretting  out  its  everlasting  blue — 

Than  prowl  through  streets  and  sleep  in  hungry  dens  : 
The  beast  should  own,  though  known  and  named  as  men's 
Though  sadness  on  the  woods  may  often  lie, 

And,  wither  to  a  waste  the  meadowy  land — 
Pure  blows  the  air — and  purer  shines  the  sky, 

For  nearer  always  to  Heaven's  gate  ye  stand  I 


VI. 
THE   MECHANIC. 


THE   MECHANIC. 

O,  when  thou  walkest  by  the  river's  brink, 

Thy  bulky  figure  outlined  in  the  wave, 
Or,  on  thine  adze-staff  resting,  'neath  the  ship 

Thy  strokes  have  shaped,  or  hear'st  thou  loud  and  brave 
The  clangor  of  the  boastful  forge — Think  not 

To  strength  of  limb,  to  sinews  large  and  tough, 

Are  given  rights  masterless  and  vantage -proof, 
The  sad,  pale  scholar  and  his  puny  hand 
Idling  his  thoughts  upon  the  idle  sand, 
May  not  possess  as  full^:  oh,  maddened,  drink  not 
With  greedy  ear  what  selfish  Passion  pours  : 

His  a  sway  peculiar  is,  no  less  than  yours. 

4 


38  THE   MECHANIC. 

The  inner  world  is  his  ;  the  outer  thine — 

(And  both  are  God's) — a  world,  maiden  and  new, 

To  shape  and  finish  forth,  of  iron  and  wood, 

Of  rock  and  brass,  to  fashion,  mould  and  hew — 

In  countless  cunning  forms  to  re-create — 

Till  the  great  God  of  order  shall  proclaim  it "  Good  ! 

Proportioned  fair,  as  in  its  first  estate. 


Let  consecrate,  whatever  it  strikes,  each  blow — 
From  the  small  whisper  of  the  tinkling  smith, 

Up  to  the  big-voiced  sledge  that  heaving  slow 
Roars  'gainst  the  massy  bar,  and  tears 
Its  entrail,  glowing,  as  with  angry  teeth — 

Anchors  that  hold  a  world  should  thus-wise  grow. 


In  the  First  Builder's  gracious  spirit  work, 

Through  hall,  through  enginery,  and  temples  meek, 
In  grandeur  towered,  or  lapsing,  beauty -sleek, 

Let  order  and  creative  fitness  shine  : 


THE   MECHANIC.  39 

Though  mountains  are  no  more  to  rear, 

Though  woods  may  rise  again  no  more  ; 
The  noble  task  to  re-produce  is  thine ! 
The  spreading  branch — the  firm-set  peak  may  live 
With  thee,  and  in  thy  well  sped  labors  thrive. 


The  untried  forces  of  the  air,  the  earth,  the  sea 

Wait  at  thy  bidding  :  oh,  compel  their  powers 
To  uses  holy  !     Let  them  ever  be 

Servants  to  tend  and  bless  these  new-found  bowers  ; 
And  make  them  household  workers,  free  and  swift, 

On  daily  use — on  daily  service  bent : 
Her  face  again  old  Eden  may  uplift, 

And  God  look  down  the  open  firmament. 


VII 


THE  MERCHANT, 


THE   MERCHANT. 

WHO  gathers  income  in  the  narrow  street, 

Or,  climbing,  reaps  it  from  the  roughening  sea— 
His  anchor  Truth  should  fix — should  fill  his  flowing  sheet, 

His  weapon,  helm  and  staff  the  Truth  should  be. 
Wrought  out  with  lies  each  rafter  of  thine  house, 

Black  with  the  falsehood  every  thread  thou  wearest — 
A  subtle  ruin,  sudden  overthrow, 

For  all  thy  household's  fortune  thou  preparest. 


43  THE  MERCHANT* 

Undimmed  the  man  should  through  the  trader  shine, 

And  show  the  soul  unabied  by  his  craft : 
Slight  duties  may  not  lessen  but  adorn, 

The  cedar's  berries  round  the  cedar's  shaft. 
The  pettiest  act  will  lift  the  doer  up, 

The  mightiest  cast  him  swift  and  headlong  down  ;, 
If  one  forget  the  spirit  of  his  deed, 

The  other  wears  it  as  a  living  crown. 


A  grace,  be  sure,  in  all  true  duty  dwells  ; 

Humble  or  high,  you  always  know  it  thus, 
For  beautiful  in  act,  the  foregone  thought 

Confirms  its  truth  though  seeming-ominous. 
Pure  hands  and  just,  may  therefore,  well  be  laid 

On  duties  daily  as  the  air  we  breathe  ; 
And  Heaven  amid  the  thorns  of  harshest  Trade 

The  laurel  of  its  gentlest  love  may  wreathe* 


VIII. 
THE   SOLDIER. 


THE   SOLDIER. 

With  grounded  arms,  and  silent  as  the  mountains, 

Pause  for  thy  quarrel  at  the  marbled  sea : 
And,  when  comes  the  ship  o'er  the  curled  wave  bounding, 

Remember  that  a  brother  in  a  foe  may  be. 
Thy  battles  are  not  wars  but  self-defences, 

Girding  this  Universal  Home  about — 
Least  lion-wrong  and  subtle-fanged  pretences 

Pierce  to  its  heart  and  let  the  life-hope  out 


THE  SOLDIER.  49 

Though  sleeps  the  war-blade  in  the  amorous  sheath, 

And  the  dumb  cannon  stretches  at  his  leisure — 
When  strikes  the  shore  a  hostile  foot — out-breathe 

Ye  grim,   loud   guns — ye   fierce    swords    work  your 

pleasure  ! 
And  sternly,  in  your  stubborn  socket  set, 

For  life  or  death— your  hilt  upon  the  steadfast  land, 
Your  glance  upon  the  foe,  thou  sure-set  bayonet, 

Firm  'gainst  a  world's  shock  in  your  fastness  stand  ! 


This,  this,  remember  still,   thou  son  of  war — 
The  child  of  peace  within  his  doorway  seated 

Thine  equal  is — though  beats  the  luring  drum  afar, 
Or  flies  the  meteor  column,  battle-heated. 

Lo,  in  the  calmness  of  that  silent  man, 

And  in  the  peaceful  sky-arch  o'er  him  bending, 

A  pure  repose — a  more  triumphal  span 

Than  sees  the  death-field  'mid  its  storms  ascending. 
5 


IX. 

THE  STATESMAN 


THE   STATESMAN. 

UP  to  the  Capitol  who  goes,  a  heart 

Should  bear,  state  tyranny  may  not  subdue : 
Wakening  at  dawn  to  fill  its  ample  part, 

It,  ever,  day  by  day,  grows  fresh  and  new, 
Nor  sleeps  through  the  mid-watches  of  the  night, 

Though  there  the  thankless  world  has  left  its  smart- 
Without  some  visions,  beckoning  and  bright, 

That  make  him  gladly  to  his  bedside  start. 
5* 


£4  THE    STATESMAN. 

Accursed  who  on  the  Mount  of  Rulers  sits 

Nor  gains  some  glimpses  of  a  fairer  day ! 
Who  knows  not  there,  what  there  his  soul  befits, 

Thoughts  that  leap  up  and  kindle  far  away 
The  coming  time  !     Who  rather  dulls  the  ear 

With  brawling  discord  and  a  cloud  of  words ; 
Owning  no  hopeful  object,  far  or  near, 

Save  what  the  universal  self  affords. 


He  that  with  sway  of  empire  would  control 

The  various  millions,  parted  or  amassed, 
Should  hold  in  bounteous  fee,  an  ample  soul — 

Equal  the  first  to  know,  nor  less  the  last. 
At  once  whose  general  eye  surveys  as  well 

The  rank  or  desert  waste — the  golden  field  ; 
Whose  feet  the  mountain  and  the  valley  tread, 

Nor  ever  to  the  trials  of  the  way  will  yield. 


THE    STATESMAN.  55 

Deeper  to  feel,  than  quickly  to  express — 

And  then  alone  in  the  consummate  act- 
Reaps  not  the  ocean,  nor  the  free  air  tills, 

But  keeps  within  his  own  peculiar  tract : 
Confirms  the  State  in  all  its  needful  right, 

Nor  strives  to  draw  within  its  general  hound — 
For  gain  or  loss,  for  glory  or  distress, 

The  rich  man's  hoard,  the  poor  man's  patchy  ground. 


Strip  from  the  trunk  that  props  the  empire  up, 

All  weeds,  all  flowers  that  hide  the  simple  shaft : 
Plain  as  the  heavens  and  pure  as  mid-day  light 

Swell  up  its  ample  cope :  nor  there  ingraft 
A  single  leaf  nor  draw  a  single  line 

To  daze  the  eye,  to  coax  the  grasper's  hand  5 
Simple  it  rose — so  simple  let  it  rise — • 

Forever,  changeless  simple  let  it  stand  ! 


X. 


THE   FRIEND. 


THE    FRIEND. 

IN  fortune,  quality  and  temper  mated — 
Let  spirit,  spirit  choose — each  suited  best 
To  th'  other's  moving  mind  or  mind  at  rest ; 

In  kinship  nearer  than  red  blood  related. 


No  castled  shadow  falls  upon  the  heart, 

Darkening  two  faces  each  turned  unto  the  other, 

No  lowly  roof  shuts  in  or  out  the  heart's  true  brother : 

Life  deals  to  each,  with  equal  chance,  an  equal  part, 


€0  THE    FRIEND. 

With  mutual  talk  of— kingdoms  past  and  gone, 
Of  Rome  republic-strong,  and  emperored  Rome, 
Of  Venice  in  her  heart-struck  days  of  doom — 

Old  Israel  pure,  and  scarlet  Babylon  ; 


Of  muniments  to  guard  a  free-born  State, 

And  ships  built  proof  against  the  world's  worst  shock, 
Of  battles  won,  white-handed  peace  to  rock 

The  coming  age, — they  share  a  mutual  fate. 


Sweet  is  the  counsel  of  two  noble  souls  ! 

Where  sleeps  no  lie  of  thought  with  art  concealed 
Beneath  the  blood,  nor  in  the  face  revealed  : 

Friendship  goes  oftenest  down  on  secret  shoals  ! 


XI. 
THE    PAINTER. 


THE    PAINTER. 

A  spirit  moving  through  the  Universe, 

On  Heaven's  errand  or  his  own  Nature's  pure  behest, 
Would  feed  the  beauty  of  his  living  wings 

On  the  free  air,  and  on  the  sunset  bright 
And  on  the  dawning  morn  ;  should  a  later  quest 

Detain  him  far  through  the  heart  of  night, 

Some  darker  tints  might  creep  across  the  light, 
Or  a  chill  splendor,  of  the  moonbeams  born, 
Dying  in  gloom  or  wakening  into  morn. 


64  THE    PAINTER- 

Lighting  by  chance  amid  the  haunts  of  men — 
Though  yearning  to  get  purely  forth  again — 
Their  dusty  shouts  would  not  sully,  but  renew 
Rather,  the  glory  when  it  had  wandered  through. 
To  pause  beneath  a  mountain,  should  he  choose, 
Its  shadows  would  be  portion  of  the  many  hues  : — 

And,  up  returning  to  his  hearth-sky  post, 

a- 
And,  dwelling,  once  again,  within  his  native  ctfost, 

The  mountain  and  the  sea,  the  setting  sun, 

The  storm,  the  face  of  men,  and  the  calm  moon 

Would  live  again  upon  the  pictured  vans  and  in  the  glowing 

crest 
Of  that  High  Spirit,  moving  or  at  rest. 


Be,  thou,  oh  Painter,  various,  pure  and  free, 

As  Heaven's  boundless  and  wide-winged  minister  : 
Moving  abroad,  thy  spirit  let  confer 

With  whispering  beauty,  born  of  Earth,  of  Air  or  Sea. 

Look  on  the  earth  that  breaks  about  thy  feet, 
In  valleys  and  in  mountains  starry : 


THE    PAINTER.  J65 

Look  on  the  woods,  amid  whose  colored  bowers, 
The  dark  bright  seasons,  else  departed,  tarry. 

See  Heaven  shining  through  the  pale  blue  sky 
On  some  fair  day  of  dreamy  summer, 

Smiling  upon  a  gentle  hour  just  dead, 

Or  kindling  welcome  for  a  gentler  comer. 


Are  there  no  spirits,  kin  to  light  and  beauty, 

Springing  to  cheer  these  sweet  and  suited  haunts  ? 

Faces  of  love  and  forms  of  eldest  duty, 

Which,  unexpressed,  the  soul  thereafter  pants-? 

Fill  thou,  the  mansion  of  thy  Father-land 
With  hues  to  gladden  in  its  hours  of  need, 
With  glancing  shapes  that  every  fairness  breed, 

And  pour  a  larger  life  from  thy  creative  hand  ! 

6* 


XII. 
THE    SCULPTOR 


THE    SCULPTOR. 

•  •  _^ 

Leap  up  into  the  light,  ye  living  Forms  ! 

And  plant  amid  men  your  birthright  feet ; 
Angry  and  fierce  as  the  maned  thunder's  storms, 

And  as  the  lightning  beautiful  and  fleet. 
Of  quick  and  thoughtful  souls  the  truest  thoughts, 

Born  of  the  marble  at  Heaven's  happy  hour — 
Ye  blessed  Realities  !  who  strike  the  doubts 

Begot  of  speech,  dumb,  with  your  better  power. 


70  THE   SCULPTOR. 

Human  and  life-like  with  no  sense  of  pain, 
Come  forth,  crowned  heroes  of  the  early  age, 
Chieftain  and  soldier,  senator  and  sage — 

Benignant,  wise  and  brave  again  ! 
Would  the  soul  clothe  itself  in  elder  gloom — 

Let  stand  upon  the  cliff  and  in  the  shadowy  grove, 
The  tawny  ancient  of  the  warrior  race, 
With  dusky  limb  and  flushing  face, 
Diffusing  Autumn  through  the  stilly  place — 

For  battle  stern,  or  soothed  for  love. 


Or  should  a  spirit  of  a  larger  scope 
Seek  to  express  itself  in  sacred  stone  : 

Cast,  life-long,  on  the  mountain-slope 
Or  seat  upon  the  starry  mountain-cone, 

Colossal  and  resigned,  the  gloomy  gods 

Eying  at  large  their  lost  abodes, 

Towering  and  swart  and  knit  in  every  limb, 
With  brows  on  which  the  tempest  lives, 
With  eyes  wherein  the  past  survives  ; 

Gloomy  and  battailous  and  grim. 


THE    SCULPTOR.  71 

Think  not  too  much  what  other  climes  have  done, 

What  other  ages :  with  painful  following,  weary — 
Each  step  thou  takest  darkens  thy  natural  sun, 

And  makes  thy  coming  course,  thy  by-gone,  dreary. 
Let  the  soul  in  thee  lift  its  awful  front, 

Facing  the  Universe  that  stands  before  it ; 
Beaten  by  day  and  night  and  tempests'  brunt, 

All  shapes — all  glorious  passions  shall  cross  o'er  it. 
Forth  from  their  midst  some  forms  will  leap 

That  other  souls  have  never  disencumbered, 
And  up  shall  spring  through  all  the  broad-set  land, 

The  fair  white  people  of  thy  love  unnumbered. 


XIII. 
THE   JOURNALIST. 


THE  JOURNALIST. 

As  shakes  the  canvass  of  a  thousand  ships, 
Struck  by  a  heavy  land-breeze,  far  at  sea — 

Ruffle  the  thousand  broad-sheets  of  the  land, 
Filled  with  the  people's  breath  of  potency 

A  thousand  images  the  hour  will  take, 

From  him  who  strikes,  who  rules,  who  speaks,  who 

sings  ; 
Many  within  the  hour  their  grave  to  make — 

Many  to  live,  far  in  the  heart  of  things. 


76  THE    JOURNALIST- 

A  dark-dyed  spirit  he  who  coins  the  time, 
To  virtue's  wrong,  in  base  disloyal  lies — 

Who  makes  the  morning's  breath,  the  evening's  tide? 
The  utterer  of  his  blighting  forgeries. 


How  beautiful  who  scatters,  wide  and  free, 

The  gold-bright  seeds  of  loved  and  loving  truth  ! 

By  whose  perpetual  hand,  each  day,  supplied — 
Leaps  to  new  life  the  empire's  heart  of  youth. 


To  know  the  instant  and  to  speak  it  true, 
Its  passing  lights  of  joy,  its  dark,  sad  cloud, 

To  fix  upon  the  unnumbered  gazers'  view, 
Is  to  thy  ready  hand's  broad  strength  allowed. 


There  is  an  in-wrought  life  in  every  hour, 
.    Fit  to  be  chronicled  at  large  and  told — 
'T  is  thine  to  pluck  to  light  its  secret  power, 
And  on  the  air  its  many-colored  heart  unfold. 


THE    JOURNALIST.  77 

The  angel  that  in  sand-dropped  minutes  lives, 
Demands  a  message  cautious  as  the  ages — 

Who  stuns,  with  dusk-red  words  of  hate,  his  ear, 
That  mighty  power  to  boundless  wrath  enrages. 


Hell  not  the  quiet  of  a  Chosen  Land, 

Thou  grimy  man  over  thine  engine  bending ; 

The  spirit  pent  that  breathes  the  life  into  its  limbs, 
Docile  for  love  is  tyrannous  in  rending. 


Obey,  Rhinoceros  !  an  infant's  hand, 
Leviathan  !  obey  the  fisher  mild  and  young, 

Vexed  Ocean  !  smile,  for  on  thy  broad-beat  sand 
The  little  curlew  pipes  his  shrilly  song. 


XIV. 
THE  MASSES 


THE    MASSES. 

WHEN,  wild  and  high,  the  uproar  swells 
From  crowds  that  gather  at  the  set  of  day  ; 
When  square  and  market  roar  in  stormy  play, 
And  fields  of  men,  like  lions,  shake  their  fells 
Of  savage  hair  ;  when,  quick  and  deep,  call  out  the  bells 
Through  all  the  lower  Heaven  ringing, 
As  if  an  earthquake's  shock 
The  city's  base  should  rock, 
And  set  its  troubled  turrets  singing  : — 


80  THE  MASSES. 

Remember,  Men  !  on  massy  strength  relying, 
There  is  a  heart  of  right 
Not  always  open  to  the  light, 
Secret  and  still  and  force-defying. 
In  vast  assemblies  calm,  let  order  rule, 
And,  every  shout  a  cadence  owning, 
Make  musical  the  vexed  wind's  moaning, 
And  be  as  little  children  at  a  singing-school. 


But,  when,  thick  as  night,  the  sky  is  crusted  o'er, 
Stifling  life's  pulse  and  making  Heaven  an  idle  dream, 

Arise  !  and  cry,  up  through  the  dark,  to  God's  own  throne : 
Your  faces  in  a  furnace  glow, 
Your  arms  uplifted  for  the  death-ward  blow — 
Fiery  and  prompt  as  angry  angels  show  : 

Then  draw  the  brand  and  fire  the  thunder-gun  ! 

Be  nothing  said  and  all  things  donB  ! 
Till  every  cobwebbed  corner  of  the  common-weal 
Is  shaken  free,  and,  creeping  to  its  scabbard  back  the  steel, 

Let's  shine  again  God's  rightful  sun  ! 


XV. 
THE    REFORMER- 


THE    REFORMER. 

of  the  Future  !  on  the  eager  headland  standing, 
Gazing  far  off  into  the  outer  sea, 

Thine  eye,  the  darkness  and  the  billows  rough  commanding, 
Beholds  a  shore,  bright  as  the  Heaven  itself  may  be  ; 

Where  temples,  cities,  homes  and  haunts  of  men, 
Orchards  and  fields  spread  out  in  orderly  array, 
Invite  the  yearning  soul  to  thither  flee, 

And  there  to  spend  in  boundless  peace  its  happier  dajr% 
8 


86  THE   REFORMER. 

* 

By  passion  and  the  force  of  earnest  thought, 

Borne  up  and  platformed  at  a  height, 
Where  'gainst  thy  feet  the  force  of  earth  and  heaven^are 

brought  ; 
Yet,  so  into  the  frame  of  empire  wrought, 

Thou,  stout  man,  can'st  not  thence  be  severed, 
Till  ruled  and  rulers,  fiends  or  men,  are  taught 

And  feel  the  truths  by  thee  delivered. 


Seize  by  its  horns  the  shaggy  Past, 

Full  of  uncleanness  ;  Heave  with  mountain  cast? 

Its  carcase  down  the  black  and  wide  abyss — 

That  opens  day  and  night  its  gulfy  precipice, 

By  faded  empires,  projects  old  and  dead 

Forever  in  its  noisy  hunger  fed  : 
But  rush  not,  therefore,  with  a  brutish  blindness 

Against  the  'stablished  bulwarks  of  the  world  ; 
Kind  be  thyself  although  unkindness 

Thy  race  to  ruin  dark  and  suffering  long,  has  hurled. 


THE    REFORMER.  87 

\fjjfc"' 

For  many  days  of  light,  and  smooth  repose, 

Twixt  storm  and  wea  thery  sadness  intervene — 

Thy  course  is  Nature's  ;  on  thy  triumph  flows, 
Assured,  like  hers,  though  noiseless  and  serene. 


Wake  not  at  midnight  and  proclaim  the  day, 
When  lightning  only  flashes  o'er  the  way  : 
Pauses  and  starts  and  strivings  towards  an  end, 
Are  not  a  birth,  although  a  god's  birth  they  portend. 
Be  patient  therefore  like  the  old  broad  earth 
That  bears  the  guilty  up,  and  through  the  night 
Conducts  them  gently  to  the  dawning  light — 
Thy  silent  hours  shall  have  as  great  a  birth  ! 


XVI. 
THE  POOR  MAN. 


8* 


THE  POOR  MAN  . 

,» 

FREE  paths  and  open  tracts  about  us  lie, 
'Gainst  Fortune's  spite,  though  deadliest  to  undo  : 

On  him  who  droops  beneath  the  saddest  sky, 
Hopes  of  a  better  time  must  flicker  through. 


No  yoke  that  evil  hours  would  on  him  lay, 
Can  bow  to  earth  his  unreturning  look ; 

The  ample  fields  through  which  he  plods  his  way 
Are  but  his  better  Fortune's  open  book. 


THE   POOR   MAN. 


Though  the  dark  smithy's  stains  becloud  his  brow, 
His  limbs  the  dank  and  sallow  dungeon  claim  j 

The  forge's  light  may  take  the  halo's  glow, 
An  angel  knock  the  fetters  from  his  frame., 


In  deepest  needs  he  never  should  forget 

The  patient  Triumph  that  beside  him  walks, 

Waiting  the  hour,  to  earnest  labor  set, 

When,  face  to  face,  his  merrier  Fortune  talks. 


Plant  in  thy  breast  a  measureless  content, 

Thou  Poor  Man,  cramped  with  want  or  racked  with  pain, 
Good  Providence,  on  no  harsh  purpose  bent, 

Hsa  brought  thee  there,  to  lead  thee  back  again. 


No  other  bondage  is  upon  thee  cast 

Save  that  wrought  out  by  thine  own  erring  hand  ; 
By  thine  own  act,  alone,  thine  image  placed — 

Poorest  or  President,  choose  thou  to  stand. 


THE   POOR   MAN.  93 

A  man — a  man  through  all  thy  trials  show ! 

Thy  feet  against  a  soil  that  never  yielded 
Other  than  life,  to  him  that  struck  a  rightful  blow 

In  shop  or  street,  warring  or  peaceful-fielded  I 


XVII. 


THE    SCHOLAR. 


THE    SCHOLAR. 

BOSOMED  in  peace  and  far  apart  from  crowds— 
Who  sits  till  hands  grow  wan  and  eyes  grow  dim, 
Pausing  his  pulse  and  stirring  not  a  limb, 

Though  paling  fast  toward  the  dead  man's  shrouds  ? 

'T  is  thou,  't  is  thou — thou  foolish  scholar's  heart- 
Forgetting  round  thee  what  a  world  there  flows, 
How,  ever  in  and  out,  its  mighty  eddy  goes — 

And  yet  thou  sittest  on  its  edge,  so  still,  apart. 

9 


98  THE   SCHOLAR. 

Who  thinks  that  dull  dead  books  have  deepest  life. 
Calls  them  by  names  of  awed  delight  or  gladness, 
With  one  or  other  argues  with  a  joyful  madness, 

And  with  the  tidiest  pillows  for  a  wife  ? 

Oh;  thou  poor,  idle  moon-struck  heart  of  youth — 
Has  the  keen  air  no  better  wit  brought  to  thee  ; 
This  folly  in  this  land  will  sure  undo  thee — 

In  spite  of  nobleness  and  worth,  of  gentlest  truth  ! 


Go  cast  these  follies  in  the  barren  sea  : 

Seal  up,  forever  seal,  the  hateful  leaves, 

And  turn  thine  eyes  where  light  no  more  bereaves 
Their  orbs,  and  lift  thine  arms  up  strong  and  free. 
Away,  away  all  gentle  thoughts  shall  glide, 

All  happiest  fancies,  nigfct  or  morning  born  ; — 

It  may  be  thou  wil't  feel  awhile  forlorn, 
And  drop,  one  day,  unmissed,  beneath  the  hurrying  tide  ! 


XVIII. 
THE  PREACHER.. 


THE   PREACHER. 

•    <,  :  V-' 

EVER  aslant  the  sky  behold  a  shape, 

Leaning  at  length  upon  the  mastered  air  ! 

Man-like  in  form  and  yet  divinely  fair, 
About  his  head  a  golden  glory  glpws, 
And  fair  as  morning  every  feature  shows. 

His  feet  are  toward  the  earth,  and  upward  thrown 
His  stretched  and  yearning  arms  appeal  to  God  ; 

With  God  he  talks  at  that  far  height— with  God  alone. 

9* 


102  THE    PREACHER* 

Athwart  all  troubles  of  the  day  or  night  or  clouds, 
Athwart  eclipse  of  sun  or  moon,  or  the  dun  tempest's 

shrouds — 

Behold  that  radiant  figure  streaming, 
'Twixt  Earth  and  Heaven,  and  Heaven  and  Earth, 
An  angel  mighty — meek  as  the  swathed  infant  at  ite 

birth, " 

All  the  mid-region  from  its  gloom  redeeming. 
'T  is  Christ,  H  is  sacred  Christ  who  there  is  beaming. 
Oh,  ye  who  sentried  stand  upon  the  temple-wall 
Holy,  and  nearer  to  the  glory's  golden  fall — 
Moon-like  possess  and  shed  at  large  its  rays — 
The  wide  world  knitting  in  a  web  of  light, 
Whose  every  thread  the  gladd'ning  truth  makes  bright  "f 
Peace,  love  and  universal  brotherhood, 
Good  will  to  man  and  faith  in  God  the  good. 


Withered  be  he,  the  false  one  of  the  brood, 
Who,  husbandman  of  evil,  scatters  strife, 
Brambling  and  harsh,  upon  the  field  of  life  : 


THE   PREACHER.  103 

But  deeper  cursed  whose  secret  hand 

Plucks  on  to  doom  the  safeguards  of  the  land, 
Freedom,  and  civil  forms  and  sacred  Rights 
That  conscience  owns  :  he,  conscience-stung,  who  plights 

His  voice  'gainst  these,  should  sheer-down  fall 

From  off  the  glory  of  the  temple-wrall, 

Smitten  by  God  as  false  to  truth  and  love 

And  all  the  sacred  links  that  bind  the  heavens  above 
And  man  beneath  :  a  withered  Paul, 

Apostleless,  beyond  recall  ! 


Rather,  with  blessings  and  the  bonds  of  life 
Let  Heaven's  good  workman  bind  together 

The  house  that  roofs  us  on  this  dear,  dear  plot  of  earth, 
An  arbor  in  the  genial  sun, 
A  stronghold  in  the  tyrannous  weather  : 

Kindly  and  loving  brethren  every  one, 
All  equal — all  alike  who  thither  tend, 
Where  all  may  dwell  together  without  end — 

And  as  our  course  must  be,  so  let  it  be  begun. 


104  THE   PREACHER* 

But  shrink  not,  therefore,  from  the  coward  age, 
That  shows,  in  mockery  shows,  its  hideous  face  at  times, 
And  crosses  with  its  cursed  din  the  very  sabbath-chimes  ; 

0,  smite  and  buffet  with  a  holy  rage 
Its  brassy  cheeks  and  brow  of  icy  coldness — 
Dash  and  confound  it  with  the  storm-cloud's  boldness 
That  frowns  and  speaks  till  every  house-roof  trembles, 
And  face  to  face  no  more  dissembles 
The  God -fear  coiled  within  the  crusted  heart ! 
Brandish  the  truth  and  let  its  four-edged  dart 
Cut  to  the  quick,  and,  cut  through  every  armor, 
Unbosom  to  the  light  the  Satan -charmer  ! 


Ye  holy  Voices  sphered  in  middle  air  ! 
Lower  than  angels,  nor  as  they  so  fair, 
Yet  quiring  God's  behest  with  truth  and  power — 
Pitch  your  blest  speech,  or  high  or  low, 
That  angels  may  its  language  own  and  know, 
Through  the  round  Heaven  to  which  it  rises, 
And  ever  on  the  earth  may  fall  in  glad  surprises, 


THE   PREACHER.  105 

,/* 
i 

The  spring-sweet  music  of  a  sudden  shower. 

Heaven  shall  bless  thee  and  the  earth  shall  bless, 
And  up  through  the  close,  dark  death-hour  thou  shalt 

spring 
With  fragrant  parting,  and  heaven-cleaving  wing — 

To  ask,  nor  ask  in  vain,  thy  Christ's  caress ! 


XIX. 
THE    POET. 


THE    POET. 

THE  mighty  heart  that  holds  the  world  at  full, 
Lodging  in  one  embrace  the  father  and  the  child, 
The  toiler,  reaper,  sufferer,  rough  or  mild] 

All  kin  of  earth,  can  rightly  ne'er  grow  dull ; 

For  on  it  tasks,  in  this  late  age,  are  laid 
That  stir  its  pulses  at  a  thousand  points  ; 

Its  ruddy  haunts  a  thousand  hopes  invade, 
And  Fear  runs  close  to  smutch  what  Hope  anoints. 

On  tbee,  the  mount,  the  valley  and  the  sea, 

The  forge,  the  field,  the  household  call  on  thee. 

10 


110  THE   POET. 

Men — bountiful  as  trees  in  every  field, 

Men — striving  each,  a  separate  billow,  to  be  seen, 
Men — to  whose  eyes  a  later  truth  revealed 

Dazzling,  cry  out  in  anguish  quick  and  keen, 
Ask  to  be  championed  in  their  new-born  thoughts. 

To  have  an  utterance  adequate  and  bold — 
Ask  that  the  age's  dull  sepulchral  stone 

Back  from  their  Saviour's  burial-place  be  rolled  : 
All  pressing  to  be  heard — all  lay  on  thee 
Their  cause,  and  make  their  love  the  joyful  fee. 


There  sits  not  in  the  wildernesses'  edge, 

In  the  dusk  lodges  of  the  wintry  North, 
Nor  crouches  in  the  rice-field's  slimy  sedge— 

Nor  on  the  cold,  wide  waters  ventures  forth — 
Who  waits  not  in  the  pauses  of  his  toil, 

With  hope  that  spirits  in  the  air  may  sing ; 
Who  upward  turns  not,  at  propitious  times, 

Breathless,  his  silent  features  listening  : 
In  desert  and  in  lodge,  on  marsh  and  main, 
To  feed  his  hungry  heart  and  conquer  pain. 


THE   POET.  Ill 

To  strike  or  bear,  to  conquer  or  to  yield, 

Teach  thou  !     O,  topmost  crown  of  duty,  teach 
What  fancy  whispers  to  the  listening  ear, 

At  hours,  when  tongue  nor  taint  of  care  impeach 
The  fruitful  calm  of  greatly  silent  hearts ; 

When  all  the  stars  for  happy  thought  are  set, 
And,  in  the  secret  chambers  of  the  soul, 

All  blessed  powers  of  joyful  truth  are  met. 
Though  calm  and  garlandless  thou  may'st  appear, 
The  world  shall  know  thee  for  its  crowned  seer. 


Mirth  in  an  open  eye  may  sit  as  well, 

As  sadness  in  a  close  and  sober  face  : 
In  thy  broad  welcome  both  may  fitly  dwell, 

Nor  jostle  either  from  its  nestling-place. 
Tears,  free  as  showers,  to  thee  may  come  as  blessed, 

As  smiling,  of  the  happy  sunshine  born> 
And  cloaked-up  trouble,  in  his  turn,  caressed 

Be  taught  to  look  a  little  less  forlorn, 
Thy  heart-gates,  mighty,  open  either  way, 
Come  they  to  feast  or  go  they  forth  to  pray. 


112  THE    POET. 

Gather  all  kindreds  of  this  boundless  realm 

To  speak  a  common  tongue  in  thee !     Be  thou — 
Heart,  pulse  and  voice,  whether  pent  hate  o'erwhelm 

The  stormy  speech  or  young  love  whisper  low. 
Cheer  them,  immitigable  battle-drum  ! 

Forth,  truth-mailed,  to  the  old  unconquered  field — 
And  lure  them  gently  to  a  laurelled  home, 

In  notes  softer  than  lutes  or  viols  yield. 
Fill  all  the  stops  of  life  with  tuneful  breath, 
Closing  their  lids,  bestow  a  dirge-like  death  I 


THE    END. 


BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR, 
IU  A  HANDSOME  OCTAVO  VOLUME  : 

I. 

YtnH  H©TL!EY  H©@[!C  a 

A   SERIES    OF    TALES   AND  SKETCHES. 


3 


A   LEGEND   OF^THE  MOUND-BUILDERS. 


A  COMEDY. 

IV. 

WAKONDAH,  THE  MASTER  OF  LIFE, 

AND  OTHER  POEMS. 

V. 

THE  CAREER  OF  PUFFER  HOPKINS. 


With  Selections  from  "Arcturus." 


READY  IBT  NOVEMBER. 


